


Choose What Stays

by whatkindofladyareyou



Category: A Song of Ice and Fire - George R. R. Martin
Genre: F/M
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2013-07-12
Updated: 2013-12-22
Packaged: 2017-12-19 06:58:44
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 16
Words: 14,652
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/880798
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/whatkindofladyareyou/pseuds/whatkindofladyareyou
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>a collection of all my arya/gendry drabbles<br/>i intend to add a new one every day, since there is a considerable amount</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

Gendry pulled away, propping himself up over her. Arya uttered a small whimper of protest and pulled him back, smashing their lips together again. He groaned and kissed her down to the sheets, pulling away faster this time. "Arya, damn it, hang on a second."She raised her eyebrows, wrapping her hands around his neck. 

"I wanted to...try something," he muttered, shifting nervously between her legs. "A new position. Something safer."

"Safer? Do you see any chains? This is safer." He bit down on his lip, remembering three nights ago when Arya let him bind her. She couldn't help smiling either. "So um..." She sat up, pushing him back. "You probably want me like this?" She turned around and looked up at him, fighting back a smile. He groaned and lined his body up with hers. 

It was an awkward position for kissing, but she made it better by sitting back against him. Her skin flushed as he pressed a finger to her, rubbing slowly before finally sliding his fingers inside her. "How'd i ever live without you," he muttered, running his teeth along her jawline. 

"From what I hear, not very well," she gasped, hand flying up to his hair as he pressed against a particularly sensitive spot. He didn't say anything, just pulled out when she was nearing her peak. She started cursing, but he cut her off with a kiss, weaving wet fingers around her neck. As much as she tried not to notice, his cold touch gave her a perverse form of pleasure.

"This is gonna hurt, babe," he said. She nodded, moving into position. Everything good hurt at first. Love, sex power... He tried as much as he could to prepare her, but no amount of soft, mildly wet fingers was sufficient. She groaned as stars appeared in front of her eyes, but the pain soon subsided. She'd seen animals do this in Braavos, and more than enough humans, but she could never imagine it would feel like this. 

He was so close, and so...fucking good. Her arms gave out and she buried her face in the pillow, uttering half formed words and panting. His teeth clamped down on her shoulder, digging in almost as deep as the fingers on her hips. She arched back into him and moaned a desperate final "Gendry".

The next thing she was aware of was the cool sheets against her front and Gendry pressing soft tired kisses to her lower back before curling around her, winding his hands around her side. She turned her face into the crook of her elbow, shifting her plastered braid. His quick jagged breaths slowly stabilized. The kisses stared again, quicker and lower than before, until she giggled he came back up to her shoulder, weaving his fingers through hers.

"It's not fair," she mumbled, trying to keep her eyes open.

"Mmm?"

"That I'm happy. People are dying outside this forge by the thousands and I'm...here. With you."

He smiled and pressed a soft kiss into her back, propping himself up on his elbows and running a thumb under her eyes, making her open them. "I love you, Arya. Now, here, and..." He cocked his head to the side, smiling that infuriating Gendry smile. "Probably tomorrow." She lifted her hip of the bed, nudging him playfully. "I won't apologize for it."


	2. Chapter 2

"You're a Stark. You're brave."

Arya scoffed, turning to face Gendry. He was handsomely outfitted in fine armor. She recognized his maker's mark carved into a shoulder plate. "Is my name the only thing that makes me brave?" He shuffled nervously, looking down at his feet. He'd been trying to compliment her and she'd shoved her foot in her mouth. Again. "What makes the common folk brave?" she whispered, walking over and fixing his out of place chest plate. 

"You," he said, looking down at her. She looked up, meeting his calm blue eyes. She could always find a smile there. A smile just for her, always rising easily and without pretense. She took her hands off his armor. "Your legends, and your wolves..."

"And if I wasn't here? Why did they fight for Robert? Or Stannis, or..."

"Duty." She rolled her eyes and stepped away from him, starting to pull on her own armor. "Honor." He walked up behind her, leaning against the wall and staring out her window at the gathering tents. "And hope, I think." She put down her chain mail and looked up at him. He smiled, sensing the unspoken question. "Hope for an end. A quick one, and... Hope for the right victor."

"And the ones that lead them into battle? You think they ever feel their deaths?"

Gendry pushed off the wall and took her in his arms, running a thumb along her cheek. She turned her face into his palm. He was always warm. Even in the dead of winter and the middle of the night he was warm. It was that warmth that had brought her back, that kept her yearning, no matter how much it made her cheeks redden. "If they're good enough people, yeah, they feel it."

She smiled and took his face in her hands, leaning in as he pulled her closer. "They won't remember you. They won't sing songs about you, or even recall your name." He smiled sadly and slid his hand beneath her tunic and up her bare back. 

"You will. You'll remember."

Arya shook her head, catching his calm blue eyes with her fiery grey. "Today's not the day I start. Gendry-" He pressed his lips against hers, slowly at first, and then faster as her hands came to rest on his shoulders. "Live," she muttered when he pulled away. He placed a small final kiss on her swollen lower lip and smiled. "Gendry, just live."

"Valar morghulis, right?" He tripped over her High Valyrian phrase, bringing his forehead to rest on hers.

"Not you. Not today. Today we live. If there's one thing i haven't learned it's how to save people and I intend to excel in that subject as well."

He chuckled, picking up her chain mail and slipping it over her shoulders. "I have no doubt you will, my lady." He teased her like a proper lord now, when he wasn't tackling her like a rabid bull. There was a time when she hated her titles, and being called by them. That hadn't changed, but she didn't mind so much when it was Gendry. 

"If your sword doesn't get them..." He leaned on her shoulder, wrapping his arms around her in front of the mirror. "They might just faint when they see how beautiful you look."

"They must not be very seasoned men," she teased. 

He smiled again, turning his face into her neck. She hoped she'd never have to live through a day when she couldn't make him smile at her. "Even the seasoned ones, Lady Stark."

Arya closed her eyes and leaned back against him. "Live," she asked one final time. His slight nod was both an agreement and acknowledgement of a bargain. He would if she would.


	3. Chapter 3

Arya doesn't realize it’s raining until she’s soaked to the bone. She stops running and swipes at her face. She tells herself she hasn't been crying. She would NOT let herself cry, not for anyone, and especially not for Gendry goddamn Baratheon. Cars zoom past her, honking occasionally, but she ignores them. Her anger is enough to numb her to everything that’s happening around her, until a care beeps a tune she can recognize. 

She curses and takes off running. If he’s in a car, he’ll catch up to her eventually, but maybe she can lose him before that happens. She hears a car swerve and a door open behind her, and then he’s calling her name. She tries not to hear it as she runs faster, noticing for the first time that Gendry lives on the straightest street in the world. There’s nothing for her to duck behind, and her wet clothes are slowing her down. 

"Arya, dammit, wait UP! This is stupid, you’re gonna get pneumonia!" She speeds up. He curses and does the same. She trips on an untied shoelace and he manages to catch up and trap her between the railing and himself. She starts wiggling and punching him, trying to get free, but he just grabs her wrists in one of his own. 

"Let. Me. GO," she growls, squinting up at him through the rain. His long black hair is plastered to his face and his shirt is glued to his chest. 

"Not until you stop running away from me."

"You’re the one running away! You got that internship halfway across the world just so you COULD run away."

"For fuck’s sake, it’s halfway across town, Arya, and you’re the one going off to college! What am I supposed to do, sit around and wait for you?"

"You’re SUPPOSED to be my friend! How many times do you think I’ll see you when you leave?"

He stares down at her, a smirk spreading across his face. She kicks at his legs and tries to punch him, though he’s still holding her hands. She was scared of losing him and he was smirking at her! He starts laughing and locks her hands behind her back, walking forward and immobilizing her against the railing. “Oh my god Arya, stop!" He’s laughing so hard he can barely get the words out. 

She can’t move, so she just glares at him. His laughter dies out and he lets one of her hands go. She’s about to hit him when he runs his thumb along her bottom lip and presses his lips to hers. A small noise of protest escapes before it really sinks in that Gendry’s kissing her. She weaves her free arm around his neck. Her other hand joins follows when he lets it go.   
He pulls back slowly, fixing warm blue eyes on her. “I’ll come back," he swears. She has no real reason to believe him, but she does. He’s Gendry, and he’s kissing her, and he makes it so she can’t feel the rain.


	4. Chapter 4

"Is there a specific song you’d like to hear tonight, m’lady?"

"Tom, if you start singing I’ll feed your lute to my wolves."

"Hear, hear," someone said behind her. The rest of the Brotherhood was scattered around the room, greedily shoveling food into their mouths. Arya had gotten back before them, so she’d already finished her bowl.

 

"Absolutely no apprecition for the finer arts," Tom muttered, absently strumming his instrument.   
Arya smiled despite herself. She had been staying with the Brotherhood since she got back to Westeros. She hadn’t meant to. She wanted to get up North to Winterfell, but winter was already setting in. She could only move a few miles a day, and she had her wolves to think about. They were walking along one day when Nymeria took off running towards a small inn. She tackled Gendry as he walked out, carrying a breastplate to his forge. Ever since then she had been with the Brothers. 

They were decent men, just wanting to protect their own. The ones that knew who she was still called her Lady Arya, but as each day passed she forgot a little more about Arya Stark, the lost girl from Winterfell. She didn’t mind. She liked the work she was doing, and being around these people. Gendry was in his element too. He had a small makeshift forge, and was never at a loss for eager children to help him. 

He looked up when she walked in. A small smile tugged at his lips but he showed no signs of stopping. It took a lot to distract Gendry from his work, and Arya didn’t like doing it. She sat down on an overturned pail and watched him dance his own dance, one of fire and steel. He sometimes talked to her about what it took to mold steel into something new but it flew over her head. 

Still, she knew enough to be able to tell that Gendry was very good at what he did. He was a master at the things he knew how do to and he always figured out new ways to accomplish those he didn’t. 

He finally dropped his hammer and plunged the sword into a bucket of cold water. “Welcome back." His voice was raspy, like it always was after he’d been working for a few hours. She smiled as he sat down on the floor next to her, running a cold cloth over his face and neck. “How’d it go?"

"Brought back a few extra hands, and some meat for the cooks."

He nodded and leaned back against the wall, closing his eyes. “They know it wasn’t you up there." She got off the pail and sat next to him, pulling her knees up to her chest.

"It was Jeyne Poole." Stories of Jeyne and what the Bastard had done to her spread quickly through the North, almost as quickly as support for Stannis had grown. The North truly thought she was dead now, but they were still engraged at what had been allowed to happen to the fake Arya. 

Gendry opened his eyes and looked down at her. She hadn’t stopped looking at the stone floor, but she could feel his gaze on her. “You’ll be able to go back one day," he said. She finally looked up at him. The light from the fire was reflected in his calm blue eyes. She had always been abe to speak freely around him, but she couldn’t say what she was thinking now. Telling him would mean not being able to deny it anymore. 

"What is it?" he asked, sensing there was something she wasn’t saying. She bit her lip and shook her head, loosening a few strands of hair from her braid. He reached over and lifted her chin, running his thumb along her jaw. “What is it?" he asked again, voice lower than before. 

She could never understand Gendry when he was like this, or why a lump built up in her throat when he touched her. “I can’t go back," she choked out. 

He dropped his hand. “Of course you can go back. "

"I can’t! They won’t…" She sighed and rested her forehead on her knees. 

"They’re your family, Arya. They must miss you."

"I can’t go back to them." She looked up at him. “I’ll lose everything I learned in Braavos. If I’m just with you or the Brotherhood I don’t have to be a Stark, or a girl, or anything I don’t want to be. If I go back I’ll have to smile and sip wine and give up my pack. I’ll never touch a sword again."

He swallowed hard. “If you go back when the war finishes…" 

"How do you think great houses rebuild their strength after wars? What do they use their daughters for?"

"Marriages," he whispered. 

"It’s all they’ll ever think I’m good for."

They sat in silence, watching the flames die in the fireplace. She leaned back again and found Gendry’s arm resting on the wall behind her. He made to pull it away but she pushed back, and he let it fall around her shoulders. 

"Thoros says your aunt was a lot like you. Wild and strong and fierce."

"I’m not her," she said.

"But you’re like her. The North is harsh and cold. Maybe they don’t want perfect ladies."

"Did he say my aunt ran off to learn to kill people?"

He chuckled. “No. But when you go back you can show them just how much you like the idea of marriage with that sword of yours."

“If I start slitting everyone’s throats they’ll lock me in a tower," she said.

He shrugged. “Eventually they’ll stop asking to marry you. You don’t even have to kill them yourself. You can just introduce them to Nymeria."

She smiled, wishing it were that easy. No matter how disobedient she was eventually they would break her. She couldn’t fight everyone, even with the new things she’d learned. It was better to stay with the Brotherhood, even though some days she missed her family so much it felt like an actual pain in her stomach. 

"You’re Arya Stark," he said, hugging her to him. “No one’s going to take that away from you, not even you. And when the war’s over you’ll find some way to make everyone remember it."

"It’s enough that you remember it," she said. 

He smiled, jumping up and pulling her with him. “For now, maybe." They walked back to the dining hall together so Gendry could get his dinner. Tom was still where she left him, but the rest of the Brothers were gone. 

"Ah, master armorer. I see you’ve stolen our wolf from us. Again." Gendry reddened and bent over his bowl. Tom grinned, winking at Arya and picking up his lute. “Now, let’s see…" He started singing some song about a knight. Gendry put down his spoon and stared at him through heavy black lashes. Tom rose, still singing, and walked off to his room. Arya laughed as Nymeria padded through the door and hopped up in Tom’s spot, yawning. 

"I better go," she said. 

"Mmm. Me too." He set his bowl aside and followed her up to the floor their rooms were on. She opened her door and waved goodbye, following Nymeria into her room. 

\------------------------------------

Give it back," Gendry demanded, barging into Arya’s room and crossing his hands ove his chest. She looked up at him, raising her eyebrows. His eyes drifted over to the bull’s helm sitting on her dresser, then back to her. They dove at the same time but she reached it first, and held it behind her back. 

"Let me wear it one more time. I go out with the Brotherhood soon and you never wear it anyway and I’m the one who got it back from-" 

"What if you lose it?" 

"I’m not going to LOSE it, stupid, it’s a helm, not a marble." 

"Arya, give it back." 

She grinned and took a step back. “No." 

"Arya…" His voice was low and dangerous, but it didn’t scare her.

She grinned wider and sidestepped toward the door. “No," she said again. 

The two stood in a mutual standoff for a second, and then Gendry lunged. She quickly stepped out of reach, but he hadn’t been going for her. He had just wanted to close the door. He knew that if she got out he would never have been able to catch her.

He stepped forward and she dodged again, but couldn’t make it around him. He smiled, fingers twitching at his side. The two danced around each other for a few minutes, neither making any progress. Arya managed to distract him for a second, and that was all it took. She dashed for the door, hand barely touching the knob before he wrapped his hands around her waist and pulled her back. 

"Give it back," he said, crossing his arms around her. She shook her head, trying not to feel the heat rising in her cheeks. He grinned and started tickling her, hands lightly flying across her skin. She wiggled in his grasp, trying to get away, but he had her trapped and she couldn’t catch her breath long enough to put any strength behind her blows. 

"Give it back, little wolf." She shook her head in between peals of laughter, but the helm drifted close enough for him to keep tickling her with one hand and grab it with the other. The second he did he spun them around and stepped back to the door. Arya’s eyes widened as her laughter abruptly cut off. “That’s not fair," she said, still smiling. Gendry just grinned back at her and bowed, stepping out of her room.

She didn't see him for two days, and she was glad for it. He never did wear that helm and he’d let her take it with her before. She didn't see why he had to be so stupid now. On the third day, when Arya walked into her room after a few hours of sparring, there was a helm on her bed. For a second she thought he’d given her his, but when she got closer she realized it wasn't a bull. It was a wolf. There were small color changes where he’d used new scraps of metal. It was beautiful and ferocious and made specifically for her. It fit perfectly.

She grinned and dashed out to the forge, but he wasn't there. Or in the kitchens or the stables or anywhere she could think to look. Finally taking her helm off, she asked a couple of the apprentice boys if they’d seen him. The first didn’t know, but the second pointed her toward the baths. She nodded and asked them how long ago he’d gone. She bit her lip and paced in front of the forge for a few minutes, trying to decide if enough time had passed. 

The door was closed when she got there. She leaned against the wall to wait, ignoring the dirty looks from the men and women walking out. Gendry finally came out, shirtless and running a towel through his hair. She threw her arms around him the second he looked up, making him stumble back. 

"Gods, girl, I’m…"

"Thank you for the helm," she said, squeezing him a final time and stepping back. 

There was a little pink in his cheeks when she looked up at him. “You’re welcome," he mumbled. 

"It is mine, right? You’re not gonna ask for it back in a few weeks?" 

He smirked. “It’s yours. I won’t even try to fight you for it." She grinned, and looked down at the helm, running her scarred fingers over it. “Just don’t lose it."

She rolled her eyes but nodded. “I won’t."


	5. Chapter 5

"Gendry." 

"What…" he muttered, rolling over and sinking his face into his pillow.

The call came again. “Gendry!" 

"Dammit Arya, go back to sleep," he growled. But something was wrong. Arya wasn't next to him; the room was empty. He wasn't dreaming, but she was still calling him. He groaned and got up, hastily pulling on a pair of pants and one of his furs. 

"Goddammit Arya, it’s not even dawn yet, what is it?" he asked, walking out of the back. 

"Tom," she said, grabbing his hand and pulling him outside. A few members of the Brotherhood were wheeling in a cart. As they got closer, he could make out Tom lying in it, clutching his side. His fingers were stained blood red. Lem hopped off his horse and walked over to them. 

"He’s…" His jaw clenched and he glanced behind him. “He’ll…After, he’ll…Come back." Arya stared at Tom as Lem pulled out his wineskin and took at long swallow. Gendry squeezed her hand, wishing he could do something more. She wove her fingers through his and took a step forward. He followed, loathe to let go of her. 

Tom turned toward them as they walked up and smiled, spitting out blood. “Lady Stark," he wheezed. “I’m so…honored…that you’re here during…my finest hour."

A small smiled tugged at the corner of her mouth. She reached out to touch him but Gendry yanked her back. “We don’t know why they turn," he whispered when she glared at him. 

"Quite right," Tom said, with a loud cough. “Beggin’ your pardon m’lady, but you wouldn’t look good with this ghostly palor on your face. Ol’ Tom, on the other hand, can make any malady a thing of beauty." 

"Oh shut up Tom. It’s perfectly fine. You’re-"

"Dying," he finished for her. “Aye, and too soon for my liking. Things were just getting interesting." He caught Gendry’s eye and winked at Arya before dissolving into another couching fit. 

"What is he talking about?" Arya asked, looking up at Gendry. He shrugged, making Tom laugh. 

"Too soon indeed. And too weak to knock some sense into you two."

"Tom…" Arya reached forward again, but stopped just as Gendry started to pull her back. 

Tom smiled, pressing a kiss to two of his fingers and holding them out to Arya. She squeezed Gendry’s hand so hard he though his bones might break. The dying man looked up at the sky and sighed. “Oh…This would have made a wonderful song. The she wolf and… her…" The rest of his words were swallowed by death. Arya’s grip on his hand loosened as she turned her attention from Tom to Anguy and Lem. They were carrying torches, and Lem had refilled his wineskin. 

"Goodbye Tom," Gendry whispered at the corpse. He could feel Arya’s eyes on him, but it was his turn to stare at the dead singer. When he looked down at her again she wasn’t there. He wheeled around and saw her running back toward the forge. After glancing back at the torches one final time he took off after her.

He expected to find her punching something or at least swinging her sowrd around but she was just curled up on his cot, staring blankly at the floor. He sat down next to her. She looked so small and broken and he had no idea what to do. Just the fact that he was seeing her like this made him nervous. She was Arya. She never cried or trembled or showed any weaknesses. 

Her strength made him forget that she had lost her whole world when she was just a child and had been fighting to survive ever since. She never cried because she couldn’t. “Arya…" She didn’t look up. Her face stayed blank. He reached out and put a hand on her arm. She blinked. Just once. He took that as permission and hugged her, turning her face away from the door and Tom’s funeral pyre. 

She slowly unfroze, moving her hand up his arm and eventually digging her nails into his shoulder. He pulled her closer, hoping she knew that he was here, alive and breathing, and he wasn’t going to leave her. When she started shaking, he delicately unwound from around her and went to close the door and start a small fire. She went back to staring at the cot until he sat down again, then stared up at him. 

He opened his mouth to say something but just closed it a few seconds later. There were no words he could say to her that would make her smile. So he just threw an arm around her shoulders and kissed the top of her head. She curled into him, throwing her legs across his lap. 

The fire danced through the dark room, bringing shadows to life. She followed them with her eyes, and eventually she came alive again. “He was just a singer," she whispered. “Just a silly singer. And my father was just a lord and my brother was just a boy and Yoren was just a kind man who tried to help me."She crossed her arms, sinking in on herself. “I can kill nearly anyone. But I can’t stop them from dying. I can’t protect anyone."  
"I’m still here," he said, looking into her wide grey eyes.The tears she was trying to keep back shone in the light from the fire. He smiled and cupped her cheek, running a thumb along the soft skin under her eye. “I’m still here," he said again.

"You’re just a blacksmith…" she whispered. 

He nodded. “And who cares enough about a lowly blacksmith to kill him?"

The corner of her mouth rose in a small smirk. “The queen wanted you pretty bad a while back."

"She didn’t get me. She won’t get me."

She smiled and bowed her head, blinking a few times to clear the moisture from her eyes. He hoped she believed him, if only for tonight. If there was one thing that could keep him alive through sheer force of will it was that Arya Stark wanted him alive. Her hair brushed his chin as she rested her head on his shoulder.   
"You remember that song he used to sing?" she asked.

"Which one?"

"Um…the one about… a maiden of trees or…the forest…"

He grinned and started singing softly. “And how she smiled, and how she laughed, the maiden of the tree. She spun away and said to him…"

"No featherbed for me." He nodded. Arya started humming the rest of it,fingers dancing on her leg to the tune. “I never liked songs. Sansa thought they were beautiful. She wanted to marry a brave knight and be like the girls in the songs, graceful and loved by thousands."

"This song’s not about those girls," he said. 

She shook her head. “It isn’t."

He watched her fingers trace patterns on her thigh. “They don’t matter anymore, the knights and ladies. The dead walk and breathe and here’s dragons across the narrow sea. All this business with highborns and lowborns and birthrights and pieces of paper that make and unmake kings…It shouldn’t matter."   
She laughed and looked up at him. “Gendry…it never did. Ever."

"Maybe not to you."

She pulled back. “Exactly." 

He stared at her, dumbstruck, until her words sunk in. Her lips opened the second they touched his, like she had been waiting for him to kiss her. She grinned and rose, resting her hands on his shoulders, and straddled him. His hands slipped beneath her tunic. She smiled and leaned into him as goosepimples appeared where he touched her, like little markers that he had been there. 

For a few amazing minutes his whole world was Arya and her whimpers as he ran his fingers over scars and barely healed wounds, and skin softer than was fair. Then he remembered who he was and pulled her back. “You better go, wolf girl." he said. 

"Why?" she whispered. Her hands were splayed across his chest and she was looking down at him the same way the ladies who came into the forge all those years ago used to look at him. He was sure he was looking at her the same way, and for the first time in his life he didn’t have a reason to resist. 

"Well, if suppose if you insist…" she said, making to get off him.

He locked his arms around her and threw her down on the cot, cutting off her laugh with a kiss. He took his time taking off her clothes, in case she became Lady Stark in the morning and this night was all he would get from her. She looked up at him as he slipped off her pants, eyes calm and shining. 

He kissed the edges of her mouth, then the middle, and down her neck, her breasts, her stomach… She exhaled shakily, hands grasping at his shoulders. He brought his lips to her knee, kissing down her inner thigh. When he pressed his lips to her slit, her eyes widened and fluttered closed. “Gendry—“she gasped.

He grinned and sank his tongue into her. She moaned and balled her hands into fists. He moved slowly, speeding up only when she moaned and arched into him. Her fingers clawed at the bedsheets, desperate for anything to grab onto. He ran his hands along her thighs, digging his nails in as she cursed and said his name again. She peaked with a soft, surprised ‘oh’, rising off the bed and and locking her legs around him. 

He kissed his way back up slowly. She opened her eyes and tried to steady her breathing, blushing when he looked at her. He had never seen Arya blush before, not even at the gaudiest jokes. His heart swelled at the thought that those pink cheeks were just for him. She pulled him down and kissed him, fingers tangling in his hair. 

Her breath hitched as he pushed into her. She bit down on her bottom lip when he repeated the motion, hands wrapping around his waist. He leaned down and kissed her, trapping a moan. He lost his head, desperate to get closer to her while he could. She matched each erratic thrust, leaving faint scratches down his back. He buried his face in her neck as she tightened around him, following a few minutes later. 

Her chest rose and fell, colliding with his. She was panting, lips pressed against his shoulder. He laughed and propped himself up, pushing his hair out of his eyes. She raised her eyebrows. “Your last name, Arya. Your bloody last name was been haunting me for years. And now, it’s…it all comes down to your name, doesn’t it?"   
She smiled and sat up, pushing him back. “Guess it’s a good thing I change it so much." He grinned and shook his head, placing a soft kiss on her lips. There were still a few hours until morning. If nothing else, he was sure she was his until the sun came up.


	6. Chapter 6

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> i’ve been thinking about this for a few days, it’s set in what i imagine the last battle will be when dany get to westeros and it’s a little arya/gendry thing and i am so, _so_ sorry

In the end it wasn’t the blood that got her, or his torn flesh. It was the way he smiled at her, the feel of his lips on hers one final time. It was the light leaving his shining blue eyes. Arya Stark killed dozens of men for the dragon queen after he died, but none of them brought him back. Their blood on her hands didn’t make his heart start beating again. 

Days after there was still a circle of wolves perfectly formed around two bodies. If you didn’t look too closely you couldn’t tell that one of them was alive. The broken girl barely breathed, or looked at anything. The wolves eventually left one by one, each having paid their respects. When the direwolf turned away, she was finally completely alone. 

She didn’t notice the world. It had stopped for her. There was no indication of time, no hunger, no thirst. Just the hollow ache in her chest. She was staring blankly at the sky when she saw him again. The same blue eyes looked down at her under a mop of unruly black hair. He said something, but she couldn’t hear him. His eyes fell on the corpse and he grabbed onto the wolf’s fur. This wasn’t Gendry. He was too small and wide eyed. This was the only piece of him she had left. 

Instinct took over. She jumped up and pulled the small boy down to her, turning his face away from his father. He started shaking in her arms. The wolf walked over and liked away a stray tear from the boy’s cheek. He wrapped his arms around his mother, face pressed against her already bulging stomach. Gendry, or what had once been Gendry, looked up at them, a smile still on his face. She stood up, pulling her son away.

"Get Lem," she said to the wolf, looking down at her husband. "Bring him home." Her voice cracked as she picked up her son and turning toward the Kingsroad. Nymeria threw her head back and howled. In the distance her pack answered her. _The pack survives_ , her father had told her once. _The lone wolf dies but the pack survives_. Her pack had survived, and she would keep breathing for them. For her son, and for the child Gendry had named with his last breath. She could live for them.


	7. Chapter 7

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> 'i've been pissin' in front of you and everything...'

"What about you boy? Who was your first?" The new recruit lifted the flagon to his lips, taking a generous swallow and passing it along. Arya leaned against a tree, staring at the warm fire the older boys had crowded around.

Gendry cleared his throat. “She had brown hair. Bright eyes, and…”

"A pretty chest I imagine?" The recuit said, prompting a few chuckles from the other men. "With a face like yours I don’t imagine you had to wade through the ugly ones."

"Not most days, no." That earned him a round of laughter and the rest of the wine.

"Well go on then, give us a number," the recruit prompted. 

"Five," he said, looking up at Arya as she jumped into a vacated seat and held her hands closer to the fire.

"Eh…still green, by the look o’ ya. What do y’think the bastard’s packing, crow?" 

Yoren rolled his eyes. “Seems to me you like talking about cocks a bit too much, Sam.”

"Now hold on there, old man, I only meant he can’t outscore me there . Why, I got all them girls from Dorne to the Wall talkin’ bout me member. Ask ‘em. Ask any o’ em."

"Aye, and what would they say, Sam? Sure they could see it?" One of the men sitting next to him chuckled and clapped Gendry on the shoulder. 

Sam lunged for Gendry, but stumbled over his blankets. Yoren pulled him back as the group laughed again. Arya stood up, deciding to use the opportunity to make her water. She stopped a few feet from the camp, close enough to hear their laughter but not close enough to be seen. On her way back, she heard rustling behind her. She drew Needle and whiped around, but it was just Gendry. With his pants down. Her eyes snapped up as he turned to her.

"Oy, Arry, what’re you doin’ out here?" He asked, putting himself away.

"Oh, I just…" She coughed, trying not to think about what she’d seen. Her brothers had stopped in the middle of the woods when they were riding, but this was different. Gendry wasn’t her brother. "Thought I saw a stag, is all." 

He laughed and headed back with her to camp. “What were you gonna do, take it down yourself?”

"I could have," she said. "All it takes is a quick jab to the throat, and I can be quick."

"You could be dead, you mean. Stags are a lot bigger than you think, and rough besides. It could tear your little throat out before you could scream."

"Not if it didn’t know I was there." He shook his head and climbed under his blankets. She closed her eyes, but couldn’t get to sleep. "Gendry?" she whispered. He turned toward her, opening his eyes slowly. 

"Those girls, and Sam…why do they care about-"

He chuckled. “Don’t worry, Arry, I’m sure you’ll grow into it.”

"But-"

"Besides, from what I’ve heard, it’s more important that you know what you’re doing."

"From what you’ve heard?"

He looked up at her, smiling slightly. “That number Sam asked me for?” She nodded. “Wasn’t five. Wasn’t even one.”

"Oh." 

"Don’t tell them?" She shook her head. He grinned and turned around, pulling the blankets up around him.


	8. Chapter 8

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Older!Arya, the first time he sees her dressed as a highborn lady (the whole shebang: beautiful gown, perfect hair, delicate shoes, everything)

Winterfell was on fire. There were lights everywhere, fighting back the cold. Snow swirled through the air, making everything surreal and subdued. Gendry had never seen anything like it. There had never been any beauty in his life, except for one girl. And she liked to torture him. 

Arya Stark was sitting at the head table, laughing at something her brother Jon had said. She was wearing a stupid low cut blue dress. Her dark brown hair fell in loose curls around her face, gleaming in the firelight. A simple grey necklace hung around her neck. She looked…absolutely horrible.

He emptied his wine glass, holding it out to Anguy. The archer refilled it for him, following his gaze to Arya. “She wears ‘em well enough, for someone that doesn’t like dresses,” he said, smirking.

"Shut up," Gendry murmered. When he looked up again, Arya was nowhere to be seen, and the Brothers were staring at him. "What?"

"They’re trying to figure out if they should bow," someone whispered in his ear. A brown lock fell over his shoulder. 

"They never did before," he said, trying not to let his voice break. 

Arya straightened, smiling. “Do you know how to dance, Ser Waters?” Various lords had been asking her to dance all night. Six in all. He knew because he’d watched every single one of them walk up to her, and he’d watched her refuse all six. 

"About as well as you do, I expect." She grinned and took his hand, leading him onto the dance floor. Every eye fell on them as the music from the previous song died out and the musicians geared up for the next one. "Arya…" he whispered.

"Ignore them," she said, holding her head higher. "They just need something to talk about tomorrow."  
"The war isn’t enough?"

She smiled, facing him on the dance floor. “Something scandalous.”

He put his arm around her waist. The material was thinner than he expected. Taking a deep breath, he tried to copy what he’d seen the lords do earlier. By the second song, he had the simple moves down, and managaed to trip Arya up with a few complicated ones of his own invention. 

She laughed as he caught her to keep her from falling, pressing her forehead to his when he spun around. “You sure you’re a highborn?” he asked, putting her back down on the ground. 

She smiled and turned toward the musicians, clapping with the rest of the dancers. They walked off the dance floor, into a secluded corner of the great hall. Her sister took her place, accompanied by Ned Dayne. 

"Have I told you you look-"

"If you start complimenting me I’ll kill you." 

He laughed, leaning down and pressing a kiss to her cheek. “You’re gorgeous,” he whispered, pulling back. It was dark, but he could have sworn she was blushing. 

"Come outside with me," she whispered.

"Arya, it’s freezing out there."

"Never knew all it took was a little cold to stop you." They grabbed two large furs and stepped out of the castle. Where the hall had been stuffed with people, outside it was deserted. They started walking toward the Godswood. He couldn’t help sneaking glances at her. The small jewels all over her dress twinkled with each step she took. Gendry felt like he was walking through a dream. Any minute now he was sure a kraken would fall out of the sky and start dancing a jig. 

Arya cursed, hopping on one foot. “How do people WALK in these things? I can barely see where I’m going.”

He laughed and offered her a hand, which she took. “I don’t think any of them walk in mile high snow. You know you’ll ruin that thing?” She shrugged and stepped to the side of the frozen lake, looking up at the face carved in one of the Godswood trees.

"My father used to come here when he wanted to find answers. Or peace."

"These are your family’s gods." She nodded, reaching out to touch the tree.

"Thank you for bringing me here," she said, turning back toward him. 

"You would have found your way back without me." He lowered his voice. Even if they weren’t his gods (he wasn’t sure had any), they were hers.

"Sure, but I’d be bored to tears. There’s no one here like you."

He reached out and wove a hand around her neck, pulling her into a kiss. She smiled and leaned into him. She had on some sort of flowery perfume. Her sister’s idea, no doubt, but underneath that it was all her- wolves and woods and snow. 

"You really do look beautiful in that dress," he said, kissing her bottom lip.

"It was the only one I’d let Sansa stuff me into."

"What’s so special about it?" He moved his hand down the neck line, careful not to actually touch her skin.

"I like the color," she said. Her breast brushed against his hand as she inhaled. He nuzzled against her neck, biting at the base.

"Should be careful," he muttered, running his lips over her skin. "Every Lord from here to Dorne will be fighting for you."

"It’s a shame they’re too late."

He grinned, tangling his fingers in her hair. “Mmm. Only cause you were dumb enough to chose me.”  
Snow melted in her hair as he kissed her. By the time they made it back to the castle, the crowd was smaller. He moved toward the Botherhood, but Arya pulled him back, shaking her head. She nodded towrd the head table. He caught Jon’s eyes. Her brother smiled at him and waved them over.


	9. Chapter 9

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Inspired by the promo: Older!Arya geht’s scared/angry over Gendry being hurt/in danger

"For the night is dark and full of terrors!" the red woman called. 

"For the night is dark and full of death!" the crowd answered her. Arya pushed her way to the front of the mob. She’d heard about this new red god, but she hadn’t expected to see him this far North. The North followed the old gods, not some flicker in a flame. 

Their torches rose into the air as the crowd cheered. The men to be burned were brought up next to the pyre. “These men are traitors!” Melisandre called. “Bastards and thieves and rapers! Sinners!” The onlookers screamed. “Who should we give them to?”

"R’hollor! R’hollor! R’hollor!" 

_They’ve gone mad_ , Arya thought as they lowered their torches and fed the first screaming man to the flames. She was about to turn away when she caught sight of the last prisoner. His lip was cracked and his arm broken from the look of it. A large ugly bruise had formed around his right eye. He stared at the flames, silent and stoic. 

_No_ , she thought. _Not him_. She drew her sword and elbowed her way to the platform, dispatching the soldier who was guarding it before he had time to react. The second one put up a fight, but he was no trouble either. The man in front of Gendry screamed as he fell into the fire. She had to be quick…

"Bring up the next!" the red woman called. Arya lunged, cutting the ankle of Gendry’s captor and stepping between him and everyone else. 

Melisandre’s hands fell, she turned away from her worshipers and smiled. The disturbance didn’t seem to bother her. “This man belongs to the Lord of Light,” she said in a thick foreign accent. 

"Your god can’t have him." 

Stannis stepped up next to the woman, a deep scowl on his face. “Get out of here, girl. The boy is a bastard. He’ll go into the flames like the rest of them.”

"You’re not killing him for something he had no control over. He is. Not. Yours."

His frown deepened. “You can’t fight everyone here. We have no issue with you.”

"Well you’re in luck. I have no issue with you." She whistled to her wolves. They weren’t that far off. They’d be here in a few minutes, if only she could stall. "Just let me take him and I’ll leave."

"Who are you, girl? No one but the Ironborn would dare be so bold and they know better."

"I’m Arya Stark." She heard Gendry take a step forward behind her. 

The crowd gasped, but the red woman just laughed. “Arya Stark is dead, child. She’s been dead for years.”

A single howl ripped through the night air, echoed by five more. There was a scream toward the back of the crowd. They parted as Nymeria jumped onto the platform, snapping her jaws at Stannis. The rest of the wolves stayed outside the circle. 

"Arya Stark is alive and well, and angry." She stared at Stannis. "I’ll be taking the bastard. Unless you think you can get out of the way before Nymeria rips out your throat." She turned to Melisandre. "Or yours."

The two exchanged a look. Gendry leaned down to whisper in her ear. “Get out of here, Arya. They’ll kill you. You have to leave.”

"What, like you did?" she hissed back at him. "My father was the most honorable man in Westeros, Gendry, and it killed him. What makes you think his daughter is any different? I’m not letting them kill you." 

"Why do you want him?" Stannis asked, grinding his teeth. He was trapped between Arya and her wolves and he didn’t like it.

"Why do you?" Gendry stepped up next to her. "Grab Needle," she whispered to him. He wove his good hand around her waist and unsheathed her old sword. 

"My lord…"The red woman put a hand on Stannis’ shoulder. He knelt so she could whisper in his ear. 

"You’re Arya Stark," he said, straightening again. 

Arya furrowed her brow. Melisandre nodded at her. “…Yes.”

"And you want to save the bastard." 

"His name is Gendry."

Stannis nodded. “I won’t tolerate any claims in the future, bastard. You can be sure of that.”

"What exactly am I supposed to be claiming?" Gendry spat. 

"Something you’ll die for if you try." He called off his guards and ordered a path cleared for them. 

Gendry walked between Arya and Nymeria, eyes scanning the crowd. Arya stopped next to the horses. “A generous gift, Your Grace,” she called to Stannis. “Can you ride?” she asked Gendry. He nodded. She looked down at his arm. “Is it…”

"We need to go, Lady Stark," he reminded her. She nodded and swung onto the horse. Gendry awkwardly followed her, hooking his good arm around her. "There’s an inn down the Kingsroad. They have a maester," he said when they were well enough away.

"It’s toward the Riverlands?" 

He nodded. “I can go by myself. If you’re on your way home.”

She shook her head. “Not yet. I can’t take it back without an army and you wouldn’t last five minutes with that hand.”

"That’s very honorable of you, Arya Stark."

"Honor has nothing to do with it."

"Then why?"

She sighed. “We were friends. And…” She didn’t know, really. But Gendry mattered, and he was hurt. “We were friends.”

They rode in silence, until Gendry spoke up again. “Where were you?”

"Braavos."

He nodded. “Are you staying?”

"I don’t know. I came back for my family, and Winterfell. But…I don’t know how to…" She bit her lip, staring at the trees as they whizzed by.

Gendry didn’t press the issue. He just hugged her and whispered “I missed you, wolf girl.” There were no other questions, though he must have had thousands. She had a few herself, starting with what that woman had said that got them out of the fray. She wasn't fool enough to think she put on enough of a threat. Not enough to be able to leave unscathed. 

The sun was coming up by the time Arya told Gendry she missed him too.


	10. Chapter 10

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> ‘I want a fic where Arya and Gendry had a fight, a real fight. They’d throw and break things and shout at each other’s face’

"What the HELL…" Arya grabbed a breastplate and heaved it toward the blacksmith. He looked up and ducked just in time, but that didn’t stop her. She wheeled around and yanked another weapon of the wall. This time it hit him in the shoulder. "Did you think you were doing!?!?!?"

"Arya…" he started, walking toward her.

"You CAN’T lock them up like ANIMALS!!!" She swung at his face, ignoring the pain in her hand when she saw blood on his lip. 

"Your sister’s the one who’s locking them up!" He said, licking his lip. 

"But you suggested it!" She swung again, but he ducked, so she shoved him back against the wall.

"Arya…" He clenched his fists, voice low and rumbling. 

"No! You don’t get to _suggest_ …” He caught her wrist in his hand, digging his nails into the soft flesh on the underside. She looked into his narrowed eyes. “You can’t take them,” she whispered, telling herself it wasn’t him. It couldn’t have been him. It had to someone else. Anyone else. He knew what those wolves meant to her. He... He knew.

"I didn’t take them," he growled, digging his nails in deeper. She refused to look anywhere but right in his eyes. "They’re alive. And they wouldn’t be if they weren’t in cages." He dropped her hand. "Your fiancé doesn’t like them very much."

Her bottom lip trembled. That was it, wasn’t it? Her future husband was sacred of her wolves and Gendry was trying to save them. When her fist collided with his face this time she could have sworn one of the bones in her hand broke. She spun on her heel and made for the door, blinking back tears. 

She only made it three steps before he yanked her back and threw her into his new work bench. It shattered beneath her weight, and wood fragments bit into her arms and the side of her face. “You’re not gonna make me the villian here Arya. Not again.” She yanked out the wood pieces and rose to her feet, shoving and swinging at whatever parts of him she could reach.

"You’re giving up, aren’t you?" She yelled as he swatted her away like she was nothing. "We’ve only been here for three weeks and you already gave up!"

"What am I supposed to do, kill all the Lords in Westeros!?"

"You’re supposed to fight! That’s all we know how to do and you forgot how to do it!” She punched him again to get rid of the feeling she got from saying ‘we’. His head snapped to the side. He brought his hand up to wipe his lip. She stood over him, panting. She was angry and hurt and so unbelievably lost that she couldn’t react when he backed her up to the wall, hand around her throat.

"I can’t fight this," he whispered, squeezing. Her eyes watered, but she didn’t move. "It’s bigger than me." She started shaking her head but he held it still with his other hand, forcing her to look at him. "It’s bigger than us."

"You’re supposed to fight…” she whimpered, feeling a stray tear fall down her cheek. His face shattered as she looked at him. He moved his hand from her neck to wipe the tear away. 

"Fuck you," she whispered, leaning up and pressing her lips to his. He tangled his fingers in her hair, pulling her closer. She could taste his blood in her mouth, the blood that she’d drawn. It only made her kiss him harder. He ripped at her clothes, only pulling away for the few seconds it took to tear her tunic off. 

She bit his lip, breaking open the wound. He growled and lifted her off the ground, pushing roughly into her. Arya straddled him, locking her legs around his waist. This was the only thing they could do. Ruin the Maiden of Winterfell so no one would want her. She grasped at his shoulders, biting back a moan. 

'You're mine,” she panted. The stone wall dug painfully into her back when he thrust her into it. “Mine…” She repeated. “ _Mine_ , Gendry…”

He cradled her neck as he kissed her, all teeth and tongue. She moaned into his mouth, pulling him closer. “Always was, love,” he said. She bit her lip as her pleasure took her. He followed halfway through, shuddering. She loosened her grip on him when he let her go, sinking on the wall a little before her muscles started working and she could hold herself up. 

He traced the laceration on her cheek, leaning down to press his lips to it. “He’ll kill me for this.”

"It’s…"

He put his thumb over her lips. “I was mad before. I…” He met her eyes. “Arya, I could never let anyone else…” His jaw clenched. “I’d die first.”

"You’re so stupid, Gendry,” she said, pulling him in a kiss. He wasn’t her husband, or anything that was acceptable to anyone else. He might never be, but she’d chosen him. She would always choose him.


	11. Chapter 11

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> arya, gendry, and hot pie end up with the bastard of bolton  
> so it’s the bastard and he’s obviously into torture, and although i don’t go TOO graphic, you shouldn’t read it if you think it’ll trigger you

Hot Pie didn’t cry anymore. He used to, in the beginning. He cried when they brought them food and when they dragged him out of the cell, and for weeks after he came back. Then one day he stopped. He didn’t cry. No one did. There was just silence. 

And then screams. The first night, after the prisoner in the next cell got taken, Gendry lunged for her, covering her ears. She’d to pull away but he wouldn’t let her. He just nodded to Hot Pie, and Arya covered his ears. He covered Gendry’s. For a week they didn’t let each other hear. 

But that lost you skin. Hot Pie first, then it was Gendry. And Gendry again, when he tried to protect a nine year old girl. Arya didn’t let him protect anyone after that. Gendry stopped losing pieces of his fingers. Ramsay noticed Arya’s arms then, when he stopped punishing the blacksmith. They were white and small and too soft for a boy. He didn’t like that they were soft, so he took it away. 

He’d taken Gendry today. She didn’t breathe until they brought him back. She would have stopped if they didn’t. The pinkie on his left hand was gone, and there was a new patch of red on his shoulder. He smiled at her when he sat down, covering his wounds as best he could. She didn’t understand why he smiled, or why he put an arm around her shoulders and let her sleep against him so they could share their body heat. Hot Pie used to sleep next to them too. But he didn’t anymore. 

"Tell me about the North," he whispered, running his thumb along the bandage on her arm. Ramsay did that sometimes. He fixed their wounds just so he could reopen them again.

"I don’t remember."

"Yes you do. You remember." She shifted against him, trying to avoid his raw shoulder. 

"Hot Pie doesn’t cry anymore," she said, looking down at Hot Pie’s hollow eye socket. She never looked at the good one. "He doesn’t cry."

Gendry turned her face away from the dead boy. “Tell me about the North,” he asked again. 

"The castle’s never cold," she said hesitantly, remembering where they left off last time. He pulled her in closer, resting his cheek on her head. "There’s hot springs, and they make the rooms hot. When it snows everyone’s cheeks turn red, like the Godswood leaves. My sister-" She stopped.

"There was this black cat came into the forge once," he continued for her. "She liked to watch me make swords, but every time I picked up a breastplate she scratched at me. Didn’t like the sound the steel made."

"What happened to her?" She choked out, through the lump in her throat.

"She belonged to a whore. Came in one day and took her back." This was how they survived. They talked about their lives, the ones they had before the Bastard. Gendry unwound from around her and turned her face towards his, tilting her head up. Their eyes met. "Happy name day Arry," he whispered. 

She shook her head. “It’s…”

"You’re five and ten, wolf girl," he insisted, smiling at her.   
Arya’s eyes watered. They’d been here for six months. Six months of flaying and death and rape and three weeks of Hot Pie’s corpse and he still smiled at her. He smiled at her and six months didn’t matter.

She pressed her lips to his as the first tear fell. He cradled the back of her neck, kissing her back for a second before breaking away and shaking his head. His eyes drifted over to the cell bars, and the hallway beyond. “The castle won’t be under Bolton control forever, Lady Stark,” he breathed into her ear, not daring to talk louder.

She pulled back, swatting at the tears on her cheeks. “How?” she whispered. “Gendry, how-“ 

He smiled again, weaving his fingers through hers. She squeezed, stopping when he winced at the absence of his finger. “I have something to fight for.”  
When she woke up through the night he was always there. She let herself kiss him two more times, only for a couple minutes. Her hand never left his.   
In the morning they emptied the cell. The next day Hot Pie got a new guest. He didn’t cry.


	12. Chapter 12

"But his eyes are moving!"

"He could be dreaming, sweetling," Arya said, pulling Edwin back. Gendry tried to breathe evenly and not display any signs of being awake. 

"Do my eyes do that when I dream?"

"Sometimes." The bed sank as his son crawled over to him again. 

"He promised. He said it’ll be a great sword, like Uncle Jon’s or the one he made for the Dragon Queen, or yours.”

Arya laughed. “And what are you going to do with this great sword? Slay a dragon?”

"A kraken! The dragons saved us. And besides, the Queen said I could ride one when I got older.”

"You know what dragons do to little boys?" she asked, discreetly squeezing Gendry’s leg behind the boy’s back. He opened his eyes and winked at her. How she’d know he was awake he had no idea, but they’d always been able to communicate with just a few glances. "They swoop down…" she continued, looking Ed right in the eye. "Right next to them. Then they-"

“Grab them…And take them away!” Gendry finished for her, throwing Edwin into the air. The boy squealed, stretching his hands towards his father, only to turn them toward the ceiling when he was caught. Gendry threw him again, tickling him as soon as he fell. “Still want to ride dragons?” He asked, letting the boy catch his breath. 

Ed shook his head. “But I could find my way back if they took me.” 

"Well…"Gendry reached behind him, pulling out the sword he’d made. "You can’t do that very well without this." Edwin’s eyes widened as he took it. "Careful," Gendry said, though he knew the sword was dull. His son still looked at it like it was made of gold. 

"Can I go practice?" He breathed. Gendry nodded, grinning as he ran out the door. 

"Since when do you know when I’m faking sleep?" He turned toward his wife, pulling her closer. 

"Your breathing changes. I only noticed a few days ago." He brushed her hair back and leaned down to kiss her. She giggled as he fell back. No matter how many times he found himself in this bed with her he couldn’t get used to it. The thought of Arya as his wife was ridiculous. She was wild and beautiful and he was just a blacksmith from King’s Landing. 

And Edwin… He could never have imagined Arya would take to children the way she took to their son. Throughout the pregnancy she had been so removed he feared she’d feel nothing for the baby, or resent losing her edge. Neither of those things happened. She loved him, and she was more ferocious for it. 

"Come spar with me later," she asked, resting her chin on her overlapping hands. 

"We haven’t done that in a while," he said, running his thumb along her swollen bottom lip. "What’s the occasion?"

She smiled, biting playfully at his finger. “I won’t be able to in a couple months. And I learn nothing training recruits all day. Besides, you’re the only one worth sparring with. You don’t go easy on me.”

Gendry was still stuck on the first sentence. “Why won’t you be able to spar in a few months?”

"I’m pregnant, stupid," she said, smiling down at him. 

"But…we only ran out of moon tea a week ago…"

She nodded. “Guess it didn’t take you very—”

He cut her off with a kiss, rolling over so he was on top. Her hands instinctually wrapped around his neck. He knew they had to get up soon, but he couldn’t stop himself from kissing down her neck. 

The door slammed open. He snapped his head up, eyes falling on Lommy. “One of you better get down there and reign in that kid of yours.” Arya laughed as Gendry yelled at him about getting out of their room. He started to leave, but turned around at the last second. “I’m serious! The boy’s attacking everything in reach!” Gendry threw a pillow at Lommy, making Arya laugh again. 

They found Brandon in the practice yard, lunging at Nymeria. The two weren’t fighting so much as they were dancing around each other. “Is midnight okay?” Arya asked, in between yelling out instructions to Bran. 

"Night sparring? You sure?" 

"I didn’t say we were just sparring.” She looked up at the sky. “Moon’ll be full. We could go out riding like we used to.”

He leaned over and bit her earlobe, pressing a kiss to the delicate skin beneath it. There had never been much riding involved. They set out to explore as far as they could, but always ended up staying hear a river or rock and picking leaves out of their hair the next morning.


	13. Chapter 13

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> inspired by   
> http://shieraseastaring.tumblr.com/post/21807053388/starkwaters-oh-oh-okay

"They really outdid themselves this year, didn’t they?"

Gendry scoffed, popping a shrimp puff into his mouth. “They strung up a few lights, what’s the big deal?” The caterer rolled his eyes, heading back toward the kitchens. Gendry was used to being at these functions with no one but Hot Pie for company. The other mechanics usually brought their girlfriends, and he didn’t know anyone else. Not that he minded. He liked the younger boy and the food was excellent. 

"You’re just bitter cause you don’t like pretty things," Hot Pie said, walking out again with a new plate. 

"I like ‘em well enough, when they have long brown hair and grey eyes." He smirked, looking down at what his friend was carrying. "Who has pigs in blankets at a formal party?"

Hot Pie shrugged. “The youngest daughter likes pigs in blankets. She’s rich enough to get what she wants. So you ever gonna tell me who this mystery girl is?”  
Gendry smiled, leaning back against the wall to survey the crowd. He’d invited her tonight, but he had no way of knowing if she would show up. “One day, maybe.” He’d been trying to imagine what Arya would wear to something like this but he was coming up blank. The girl was dirtier than him most days, and she hated dresses.

Just as he had convinced himself he’d be stuck by the wall all night, the crowd parted and he saw her. “There she is,” he said, at the same time as Hot Pie. “What are you talking about?” His brow furrowed and he looked down at the plump caterer. 

"That’s the daughter, the one that likes pigs in blankets."

"No, it’s…" He studied her in earnest. It was Arya, he was positive. Sure, her hair was braided and she was wearing a strategically cut dress, but it was her. He knew every inch of her, and no one else had those eyes. "That’s-"

"Arya Stark, yeah. She’s not like most of the snobs here. She’s funny. She came down to see us today and…"

"That’s not Arya Stark," Gendry insisted.

"Sure it is. Who’d you think…" His eyes widened.

"Hot Pie, shut up."

It was no good. He burst out laughing, loud enough to get them a few dirty looks. Gendry cursed and pushed him into the kitchens. “You’re…” he gasped in between giggles. “You’re screwing…You’re…” He became hysteric again, doubling over with his hands around his stomach. 

Gendry ran his hands through his messy hair, starting to pace back and forth. “Damn it Hot Pie, shut _up_ ,” he growled, but it was no good. Hot Pie calmed down for a second but started up again when he noticed Gendry frantically trying to straighten up his messy suit. 

It took a light slap to the face before he finally stopped, wiping tears from his eyes. “Well, what’re ya gonna do, Sir Waters?” 

"I…" He looked back at the closed door. He wanted to go out there and make her smile at him and dance with him and go home with him, like she’d done a million times before. 

"It’s just a girl, man," Hot Pie said, trying to make him feel better. 

But it wasn’t. It was his girl. His, and she had been dancing with Ned goddamn Dayne when he left. “It’s not just a girl,” he smirked, looking down at a surprised Hot Pie. “It’s Arya Stark.” He might not have known who she was, but she knew. And she'd still chosen him. The thought gave him all the courage he needed.

He backed out of the room, only turning around when the door slammed in Hot Pie’s face. She was easy enough to spot. A crowd had formed around her and Ned. Gendry calmly walked into the circle and caught her in mid spin, trapping her against his chest. A smile slowly spread across her face as she realized who was holding her. 

"Took you long enough," she muttered, pulling him down into a kiss before he could point out that they were in the middle of everyone they worked with (in his case, for) and her father was three feet away. 

He was acutely aware that he was grinning like a lovestruck idiot as choruses of ‘who is this guy?’ erupted around them and Ned Dayne demanded to know what was going on. It didn’t matter though, because Arya Stark was grinning as much as he was. Her smile lessened a little as she apologized to her former dance partner, all while stepping closer to Gendry. Ned started to protest, but thought better of it and excused himself. 

Her brother called for the music to begin, throwing Arya a knowing look. She stepped back and wrapped her hand around Gendry’s waist. He kissed her again before the song picked up and he had to focus on his movements.

By the end of the night he was proud to say she had smiled at him. And danced with him, and introduced him to her brothers, and learned why Hot Pie was called Hot Pie. And yes, she did go home with him, like she had millions of times before. Only this time there was a dark red dress at the foot of his bed in the morning, and a college dropout turned heiress sleeping on his shoulder.


	14. Chapter 14

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> one sentence fix meme that sometimes turned into more than one sentence oops

Angst

There were two serving girls in the morning. She could hear him laughing at something one of them said all the way from the practice yard. Then came the perfumed lord’s daughter that left with pink cheeks. Arya swung at the air in front of her. She never really expected anyone to spar with her, not like he used to. But he had his forge and his serving girls, and she had her sword. So she practiced the moves against an invisible foe and tried not to notice when he came out to watch her.

Smut

Gendry never stopped. Even when she screamed (which didn’t happen easily) he was intent on driving her to the edge over and over again until she collapsed, limp and sweaty, unable to do anything as simple as lift her leg. All she remembered for days after were his fingers and his tongue and how he smirked when she moaned.

 

AU

"You shouldn’t be here, Your Grace," Arya said as Gendry wound his hands around her from behind.  
"Why?" he whispered in her ear. "Does my lady not wish to comfort me in my hour of grief?"   
"I was never your lady." She left him tense around her. His jaw tightened against her cheek. Yesterday she would have smiled, made him angrier until he shoved her against the wall, biting desperately at her skin. Today everything was different. "I never will be."  
She turned around when his hands dropped. She knew the sadness in his eyes wasn’t for his father. Not really. It was for everything that lay before him. “The ruined maiden of Winterfell,” he said, scoffing. “What does that make me?”  
Arya made herself look into his eyes, knowing full well she wouldn’t ever let herself see him after tonight. “My sister’s betrothed.” 

Hurt/Comfort

She had her prayer. Arya listed the people who’d wronged her and vowed to have her revenge. Gendry was different. He internalized. When Lem died he accepted it. There were plenty of battles going on around them every day, and casualties were to be expected. But then it was Anguy, and Tom, and Lady Stoneheart, and Harwin.   
With every new death Gendry thought that maybe if his armor were better or his swords sharper they’d still be alive. He blamed himself, not the men that killed them. Still, he could fool most of the Brotherhood. He was the sarcastic, teasing blacksmith to everyone but one girl.   
Arya saw through it. She never said anything, but she was always awake when he couldn’t sleep, or curled into him after he had a nightmare. In the morning she just smiled at him and placed a soft kiss on his lips. It was moments like that that made him think they could survive this war, broken as they were. 

Friendship

"Dragonstone seems fitting for her. You think she’ll come back here?" Gendry opened one eye, squinting up at Arya.   
"Few years, maybe." She climbed higher, slipping slightly on one of the sharper rocks.   
"Arya you’re gonna break your foot!" He sat up, ready to run over if she showed any signs of falling.  
"It’ll heal!" She yelled back. "Besides, we didn’t come here so you could lie on the beach."  
"We came here because of Stannis," he said, lying back down as she started toward him.  
"So? Does that mean we have to stay in the castle all the time?"  
"We’re not in the castle," he said, closing his eyes.  
She repeated what he said in a mocking voice, but still laid down next to him. He grinned. The only time Arya ever slowed down was when she was unconscious. He liked that she let him stop her when she was awake. 

Romance

She brought little things into the forge with her sometimes. Sweetcakes and extra candles for when they stayed up at night and a Stark shield on his name day, because she’d seen him admire them earlier. He never said anything, pretended not to notice the blush in her cheeks when he smiled at the gifts. In return she didn’t react when he noticed the winter flowers in her hair, the ones he’d picked for her.

Fluff

Gendry had never understood his youngest daughter. She was his sweetest child, and the one most distant from him. That was why he worked so hard on her eighteenth name day gift. He spent months looking for the prettiest materials, and even stole a gem Arya had forgotten about. Valyrian steel had been one thing, but it took him days to figure out how to mold the metal into something decent looking.   
He expected her to thank him politely and wear it for a few days in acknowledgment of his effort. When he gave it to her her eyes widened and she jumped into his arms, squeezing him as hard as she could. He squeezed her right back, taking special care not to break a rib. “I love you,” he whispered in her ear. She pulled back, staring up at him with wide grey eyes.   
"You’re the strangest one of all of us," he said, holding her face in his hands. She smiled. "But you’re making your own way in the world. Your mother and I understand that. And we’ve never been prouder of you."  
She rolled her eyes, pulling him into another hug. “I love you too, silly,” she whispered. His daughter always chose books over swords, but that was the day he realized she was their child, through and through. She fought for the things she wanted in her own way, whether it was finding a dancing instructor among the Brotherhood, or becoming the greatest female maester the world would ever see.


	15. Chapter 15

"You’ve never been very good with a sword, Gendry." Arya grinned, holding a hand out to help him up.

"Yeah, and you couldn’t handle me without one," he grumbled. She raised her eyebrows, grabbing his sword the second he picked it up. He followed a few steps behind her as she walked into the forge and dropped the weapons on the floor. "You can’t be serious."

She brought her hands up in front of her, clasped in loose fists. “Don’t worry. No one’s around to see you lose to a girl.” He cocked his head to the side, a playful smirk on his lips. “Again,” she added, smiling. 

He charged, but only managed to graze her arm as she spun out of the way. The night was dead silent except for their gasps and laughter. If they were actually sparring Arya would demand that Gendry stop going so easy on her, but this wasn’t serious, and she liked letting him catch her, only to spin out of his hands a minute later. 

She was backing up from him when she heard the first howl. It was enough to distract her so Gendry could run at her. She didn’t have time to dodge before he tackled her to the ground, leaning down so close she could feel his breath on her lips. “Yield.” She shook her head, staring up at him with wide eyes. He pinned her wrists over her head. “Yield, girl, or I’ll throw you to those wolves.”

"That supposed to scare me?" She rose, rolling her hips against his. "I own the wolves."

"Just means they’ll kill you quicker…" He bit at her bottom lip until her mouth opened for him. The wolves howled louder as he kissed her, making her giggle. He smiled back, letting go of one of her wrists to run a hand down her side and along her stomach.

"Forge," she choked out as his thumb grazed her nipple.

"Is m’lady scared of the dark?" he muttered against her neck. 

She shook her head. “Too cold to take off clothes out here.”

He chuckled. “-s true.” His teeth lightly clamped down on her neck before he pulled her up with him. 

She fell backwards onto his cot, ripping at whatever pieces of cloth she could get her hands on. Her eyes trailed up and down his chest he as dealt with her clothes. He looked up at her with Baratheon blue eyes through Baratheon black hair and smiled. 

She pulled him down into a kiss, kicking off her trousers completely. He had denied Stannis’ offer to legitimize him, but that was the first time Arya noticed how much he looked like his namesake. He was nothing like any of them of course, but once you saw the Baratheon in him it was hard to think of anything else.   
Except now, when he was digging his fingernails into her throat with one hand and slowly running the other down her thigh. Here he was just Gendry, and she was just Arya. This was the only place that was enough. 

He pulled back, breathing heavily. She closed her eyes, making her whole world Gendry. She’d seen him do this before. The first time she had no idea what was happening, but now she loved every second of it. The way his eyes glazed over as he took her in, his tongue darting out over his bottom lip, that eternity before he finally pressed his lips to her. 

She moaned and arched up as his tongue pressed into her. He grabbed onto her thighs, moving wildly between her legs. Her fingers tangled in his hair. She needed him closer. He grinned, pressing his tongue to a spot he knew she loved. “Oh fuck you too,” she gasped. That only made him go faster, right up until she was on the edge, at which point he slowed down, going back to kissing her. She yanked his hair back, making him wince. 

He brought his hand up to hers, squeezing lightly before starting up again. She quickly forgave him as the pressure below her stomach built up. Her legs tightened around him when she peaked, biting down on her bottom lip. When she could breathe again she felt him press a final kiss to her before coming back up. She smacked his arm the second she could muster up any strength. “Stop…stopping…in the middle.” 

"Or what? You’ll have me killed?" He smirked, brushing back a strand of hair that was plastered to her forehead. 

"It’s possible."

"It’d be an honor to die for m’lady Stark," he murmured, leaning down to kiss her. She ran her hands down his back, feeling the well defined muscles there. He bent toward her, making his skin ripple. She brought her hips up to his, exhaling sharply as he pressed against her. 

There were so many things about Gendry that calmed her down. He was the only one who could bring her back from the edge of anger with just a look, or make her think things through before acting on them. But the second he pushed inside of her her senses exploded. There was no calm, no rational thought. It was just heat skin and Gendry. 

She hooked her leg around him and reversed their positions, throwing her hair back and swirling her hips. He rose to met her, hands moving from her breasts to her hips. She stared right into his eyes as he bucked beneath her, every bit the Bull she’d met all those years ago. When her muscles started to give in he climbed on top of her. She bit into his shoulder, stiffling a moan against his skin.

His name left her lips in a pathetic whisper as pleasure washed over her again. He followed a few moments later, fingers digging painfully into her back. She looked over at him when he fell to her side, chest rising and falling rapidly. The words ‘I love you’ had never made it past her lips, but she thought them every day.   
It would be easier if he accepted Stannis’ offer. But he wouldn’t, and she didn’t truly want him to. She loved Gendry Waters, not some black haired boy with an important surname. 

"You’ve got that crease between your eyebrows again," Gendry muttered. She turned on her side and looked up at him. "You worry too much, wolf girl." He put his arm around her and pulled her closer, kissing the top of her head. 

"I suppose one of us has to," she said, curling around him and closing her eyes. 

"For five years I used to worry about a little girl I lost. Then she came back. Worrying nearly killed me, I’m not gonna let the same thing happen to you."

"But if Stannis…"

"The hell with Stannis. He can go back to his castle and take his promises with him." Arya smiled, burying her face in his chest. He ran his thumb along her shoulder. 

"Unless…If you want me to be a Baratheon…"

She shook her head. “You’d hate it. Stannis can’t live forever, and then it’ll just be you. The last of a name you never wanted. Everyone will want you to…” She stopped, realizing she was about to say exactly what was expected of her. 

"Can’t say I have much interest in marrying and having children."

"Me neither…" she murmured.

"What would you rather do? If you could do anything?"

"See Dorne? And the rest of the free cities, and the Dothraki sea…"

"We could always go there. After the war, after we restore Winterfell…We could just go."  
"What about the forge?"

He shrugged. “We’ll come back sometime.”

She grinned, nodding against his chest. She couldn’t imagine anything that could make her happier than that.


	16. Chapter 16

“Dammit girl stop wiggling!”

"It’s not my fault you keep dropping the strings!"

"Right, cause I’m the one who made them so bloody small. How do your handmaidens do this?" Gendry lost the path of the string he had been following for the fifth time in one minute. 

"I don’t know but you’ll have to figure it out soon cause I’m supposed to be there in ten minutes!" Arya jumped up and down, making him drop the damned strings on her damned corset. Again.

He wove an arm around her waist and pressed her against him. His body automatically reacted to her closeness, but he forced himself to ignore it. “Hold still.” She rolled her eyes and nodded. He let her go, going back to work on the dress. 

"Should’ve ripped it," she muttered. 

"I’d rather stay out of debt if it’s all the same to you." He tied a final rough knot in the back and spun her around.

The corset looked as good as it was going to, but… “Your hair’s a mess,” he said, cradling the back of her head and pulling her into a kiss. She wrapped her hands around his neck, laughing lightly as he picked her up and leaned back so her brown locks fell around his face. 

"Have to go," she murmured between kisses, showing no intention of stopping. He groaned, stealing a final kiss before putting her down. She turned around and scooped up her hair, dropping it all behind her back.

This part he knew how to do. He wove three even strands through each other, pulling every once in a while to tighten the braid. She watched him work in the mirror, a small content smile on her lips.

"I think I have a future as a hair weaver if being a blacksmith doesn’t work out." He ran his fingers along the finished product. Normally he couldn’t focus on anything delicate for longer than a minute, but he loved doing this for her. The dress, on the other hand, could be burned for all he cared. 

He lowered his lips to a pressure point behind her ear. This is what got them in trouble in the first place but he couldn’t help it. She looked so goddamned good in proper girl clothes. 

"I really do have to go…" She leaned back on his shoulder, closing her eyes. He nodded, stepping between her and the mirror.

"This is important." She drew her bottom lip into her mouth. "You should go," he repeated, pressing a kiss to her cheek. 

"Mmm hmm." She wove her fingers through his hair, smashing their lips together. He stepped forward, trapping her against the wall. His hands fell to the tops of the corset he’d just tied off. Her breasts rose as she inhaled, grazing the tips of his fingers. Half an hour ago he hadn’t stopped himself, but now she really was going to be late, and this dinner mattered. He pulled back, eliciting a displeased whimper. 

"Stop it, you know I’d keep you here if I could." He bent over and picked up a crumpled blue dress from the floor, running his hand up her leg as he went. She slowly raised her hands, crossing them at the wrist over her head. He shook his head and slipped the dress on. 

"I’ve skipped dinners before," she said, arching toward him.

 _This girl is going to kill me_ , he thought, forcing himself to focus on her face.”Go, before I tie you to the bed and hold you hostage.”

"Never said I had a problem with that… " She pulled open the door an inch, then turned around and looked at him. "You are coming down later, right?”

"You’ll have your hands busy with the Queen," he said. Gendry knew where he belonged, no matter how hard she tried to convince him otherwise. Her bedchamber was one thing, but he had no place around royalty. 

"No I won’t. Jon’s the one entertaining her."

"I’ll come save you toward the end, all right?" A chorus of voices erupted outside the room, all calling for the younger Stark sister. 

"Sooner," Arya said, giving him a quick kiss before taking off down the hall.


End file.
